


The Long Answer

by Liadt



Category: The Archers
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene, the 80's were dodgy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 03:38:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4904149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liadt/pseuds/Liadt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What really went on that night between wine bar owner Nelson Gabriel and fashion student Sophie Barlow?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Long Answer

The evening was going swimmingly. Sophie had come to Nelson’s tiny studio flat to take measurements for his costume for the Ambridge Christmas revue. Before she could get started, however, Nelson had pressed a glass of champagne into her hand. Some time later, Sophie had drunk all of the champagne Nelson had helpfully provided and was suitably impressed by his tales and readings he was considering for the revue. Sophie didn’t have the nimblest mind, but Nelson didn’t care as long as she eventually caught on to his way of thinking and he expected that shouldn’t be too soon.

“Oh, that was a really exciting story. You’ve led ever such an interesting life, Nelson,” lisped Sophie, enthralled. 

“That’s most complimentary of you, my dear. Are you all right on the sofa? I am finding it to be rather restrictive. It would be more comfortable on the bed,” suggested Nelson.

“I’m getting stiff sitting here, now you mention it. And I’ve never been on a bed with satin sheets,” said Sophie.

“Ah, well then, let me help you up and remedy this gap in your life.” Nelson stood up, took Sophie by the hand and led her to the end of the bed. 

Sophie giggled and covered her mouth with her free hand. “You’re being very chivalrous,” she said, as she sat down and bounced experimentally on the mattress. “Ooh, comfy!”

Nelson sat down next to her and before he could put his arm around her, Sophie threw herself back on the bed.

That’s more like it, thought Nelson. 

“I wish you had a skylight,” said Sophie.

“Do you, Sophie?” 

“Yes, then I could stare at the stars while you read me some of your poems. Could you recite me one anyway? One with bulls and flowers?”

“Bulls?” said Nelson, confused. He gazed down at her. By God, she looked ravishing.

“I was washing David’s prize bullock today,” said Sophie, by way of an explanation.

“I don’t know many sonnets on the subject of livestock.”

“Please. Then we can lay here and pretend your ceiling is the sky and your bed a field.”

“Very well.” Nelson wasn’t going to deny Sophie whatever she wanted, odd as it may seem. He lay down next to her and recited some verse, while Sophie pointed out imaginary constellations. She soon stopped pointing and chatting to let Nelson get on with his rhyme about a milkmaid, uninterrupted. The next thing he felt was Sophie roll against him. His heart skipped a beat in elation and turned his head to hers. It was the first time he had been close enough to count each individual freckle on her perfect, snub nose. He barely had to move to gently touch one of Sophie’s soft, red-gold curls that framed her heart-shaped face and twirl it around a forefinger. 

Tonight, Sophie was his and his alone. She was so very beautiful and so very asleep. So close, yet so far. How could she lay there unmoved (and unmoving), against him, when he felt the opposite inside? Maddeningly, that made Nelson desire Sophie triple-fold and she was hardly in any state to resist was she? He pushed the notion away, as he carefully unwound her hair from his finger. He had done some wicked things in his time, but he hadn’t done anything that unspeakable.

“Hmm, perhaps the universe is telling me you’re not the girl for me. Love is in the mind and I don’t have the key to yours. Yet,” said Nelson, quietly. He wondered if Sophie was as innocent as she appeared. And he thought he was ignorant when he was eighteen. No, that wasn’t right; there was a difference between innocence and ignorance. Things were different when he was eighteen year old youth. As he recalled he was doing his national service. Instead of lying on a bed with someone of the opposite sex, he had been sharing a hut with a bunch of lads, who were offended by his preference for reading books over comics. It hadn’t unduly bothered him: growing up in Ambridge, he’d had practice in being the odd one out. 

There was one lad who was illiterate that he forged a friendship with. Nelson would read and write letters for him and cover up for his lack of literacy. They would probably call him dyslexic now. Back then, they said he was thick. People in general could be terribly short-sighted in their assessment of others, Nelson sighed to himself. They had gravitated together because if there is anything that draws outsiders to each other it’s the shared experience of being set apart from everyone else. 

In the end, he’d had the last laugh on his fellow conscripts. He had more luck than them in catching the eye of a pretty girl. His friend, it turned out, had an extraordinary attractive, older sister. She was generous too, particularly to a clumsy, gauche young man as he was then. He mused on what had become of her and then decided dwelling on what might have been suited him as much as settling down with someone. She had changed his mind about wearing a uniform. He had decided he would like to find out how far a proper uniform would get him, as opposed to an ill-fitting national service one. In addition, there was the prospect of leaving Britain’s grey shores to serve his country in warmer climes and Britain in the 1950’s was never greyer.

Sophie shifted in her sleep, causing Nelson to refocus on her and stifle a sigh. If he could have moved without waking her, he would have got up. Still, she might get cold without his body heat, he knew he would without hers if he retreated to the sofa and it was pleasant sharing a bed with Sophie, albeit not quite in the way he had planned, thought Nelson drowsily.


End file.
